Duende, Drabbles and D Words
by Moddy
Summary: (N.)"The feeling of profound awe experienced when viewing a piece of art, watching a performance, or listening to music that has deeply moved someone".
1. Whump I and Beverly Makes a Wish

For some of these drabbles, I wrote them the same day that I posted them, but for others, I wrote them months ago when I was a crackhead. You can't tell the difference, though; haha, good luck!

* * *

 **Whumptober (1):** _Caesar has a little accident while working in the lab. Part 1: Caesar experiences the world differently when he's in his lab._

Accidents and unexpected damages happen all of the time in a lab, especially if that lab is of Salazar's.

Usually, he prefers to work on his own if he can help it, only requiring personal assistance from Providence either if insisted by others or if it's a job he simply cannot do without others. At the moment, he was only tinkering with a small collection of circuits and wires, so his spacious lab was occupied by scattered spare parts and only echoed with the sounds of clinking metal and the occasional whir or beep.

His movements are often precise and rarely not without purpose; the sounds of the machines around him would move in sync to his actions as if his creations flowed through him, and he controlled their performances with every twitch of his finger and rise and fall of his chest.

Every now and then, he would separate his attention from his current task and move up and down his lab, only muttering to himself as he checked between other devices and computers, but he would always return to his initial project, eventually.

Sometimes, though, between his automatic movements and thought, he will miss a part or will lose focus entirely whenever he comes up with a new task to add to his workload. A project or program that he could have spent hours, days, weeks, or so on, will not always progress as intended. While Caesar acknowledges this as part of the process, it is not without its risks.

After what may have been several minutes of shifting through and readjusting on what seemed like a cluster of colored wires and chips, Caesar set aside his screwdrivers and other tools and stood back to examine his work before swiftly picking up the miscellaneous pile and moving it to the other side of the lab. Kneeling down behind a large block of metal put together by screws and a monitor, he began to attach respective ports and plugs.

The resulting clicks as each wire and chip found their intended place was like an industrial puzzle that had filled the scientist with a low pulse of satisfaction that touched from his guts and spread out to the ends of the hair on his head and the tips of his fingers; it was accompanied by a more active sense of anticipation and excitement that oiled his joints to move faster but also very nearly put his limbs into a vibration as they ached to move quickly onto the next task. He went through mental debugs of all that he had been doing up to now thus far; did he remember to plug in- do not confuse this with the one that- is there enough power to operate- how many times had he checked-

With a final click, he pushed himself off of the floor, briskly, and nearly stumbled as he circled around the machine. His eyes screamed with rabid energy as he looked the contraption in front of him up and down whiles his arms patted his vest for the remote to activate it. Just as his fingers pulled out the cubic device from his pocket, he had already pressed the largest button.

The screen in front of him, after a moment of inactivity, split open in a pure blue light that revealed a scrolling list of commands in a language that used familiar letters and numbers but spoke in a cluster of words and symbols that would not have belonged together in any restaurant menu or human conversation. Whirring from beneath the metal exterior vibrated in the air, like a celebratory dance of the life of machine; it filled his senses with familiarity at something new. Warmth began to seep into the cold machinery like a hot drink in the winter, and gingerly pressing a hand to the surface, Caesar drank in the comfort eagerly like a child would hold a newly printed piece of paper to their face. But just like a fresh print, the content of warmth would soon fade and so would the excitement.

In this case, the heat only increased as if the hot drink had spilled into the wires and the most sensitive parts, and the reaction to this betrayal would be quick as a flinch in an attempt to escape the burn. The screen that had just been calmly telling the story of a machine's birth would soon begin to stumble between its words and even entire lines of text, shuffling the image to hide its mistakes. As if the shame and confusion of the building errors were taking a mental and physical toll on it, sparks screamed out between its crevices and had the scientist shielding himself. It was as if its tears of frustration evaporated into a dark smoke that had it sputtering like a springing door-stop until a last wheezing cough that resulted in absolute darkness.

* * *

 **Beverly Makes a Wish:** _Lilo & Stitch AU - Beverly & Rex version. Beverly makes a wish on what she thinks is a star, and Violeta listens in._

Taking a breath, Beverly clasped her hands together to her chest and gazed up at the night sky above her. She couldn't tell if her shivers were because of the anticipation, or because she forgot to bring a jacket in her excitement. With hope plaguing her nervous expression, her posture still remained closed off out of fear of being heard by someone, "So… hi, it's me, again!"

The responding breeze that had Bev habitually tucking her hair behind her ear was all to fill the following silence. Embarrassed, she felt her smile falter but kept her hands still loosely clasped, "...Okay, I don't even know who I'm talking to here… Maybe it's kind of immature to still believe in this kind of stuff still. Wishing on shooting stars? Might as well believe in Santa and the Tooth Fairy!" she gave a brief chuckle before quickly masking it with a cough, "...Sometimes I feel like I'm still stuck in time those 5 years ago. Like, while everyone is moving on and adjusting to what happened, I'm not… all there? Like I'm stuck in this room with a small window as if I'm just this freak others need to hide from. It's probably why I don't have a lot of friends my age…"

Peeking out from behind the curtain, Violeta had to hold herself back from making a sound as she anxiously pressed her ear to the window, her glasses sliding down her face and her lips pulled into a thin line.

Still wishing to an invisible entity, Beverly chewed on her lip with her hands now resting in her lap, "So maybe you can give me a friend? Just someone who won't run away, an angel…? I know that Violeta might not believe in angels like that, but I kinda want to. So yeah, I'd really like a really nice one who will go to rock concerts with me and not call me weird."

Violeta frowned at her adopted daughter's confession. She had already been well aware of how Beverly had trouble fitting in, and perhaps maybe what Beverly called her "constant helicopter mom-ing" may have not helped. Could you blame the mother, though? With what Beverly and Violeta had in common with their circumstances, Violeta was not about to lose any more of her family.

And maybe, for a moment, she was comfortable just living in denial about it all, about Beverly, about Rafael, about her sons, but in her racing thoughts, she could never forget about her family. Almost as if things were okay again, her mind allowed her to remember their faces, their voices, them.

'Caesar had trouble making friends, too.'

That thought alone was enough to strengthen Violeta's resolve.

* * *

1: For Whumptober, I wrote this little bitty. This one is long, so I split the entire thing into about 5 parts to be posted later. What I wanted to do in this particular prompt was not use any dialogue and tell the whole thing in 3rd person limited from Caesar's point of view. In this particular part, I wanted to express how Caesar feels so passionately and so fully when he's in full-blown science mode. The language is very descriptive and brings a lot of these inanimate objects to life, to show how closely Caesar feels with his work and understands it. You'll see later how it contrasts with how he is around other things and people.

2: This one is much shorter than the last one, but it's basically the scene where Lilo wishes on the star which was actually Stitch's ship crashing onto Earth. This AU is pretty much "Lilo and Stitch", but I change _a lot_ of the characters' circumstances. Here, Beverly and Violeta are both reflecting on how they lost their families in an incident about 5 years ago, and while it brought the two of them together, it has not done them well in any other aspect.


	2. Whump II and Predatory

(Insert Author's Note here)

* * *

 **Whumptober (2):** _Caesar has a little accident while working in the lab. Part 2: Caesar wants to keep working, but he gets a sign that maybe he should stop._

Failure, or unintended results, was a feat that he was intimate with, but in combination with the hours gone without food or water or rest, fatigue edged into Caesar like a dog biting at his ankles. Yet his hunger for reparation and answers was far stronger than the pinching in his stomach or the growing desert in his body; it was a need that screamed like a deafening cyclone in his mind, blowing the rain of ideas and words through the forefront of his thoughts and blinding him from anything beyond the metaphorical "brainstorm". His determination and ignorance did not leave him invulnerable, though.

With warnings of poor self-maintenance throbbing in the back of his mind, Caesar's feet dragged and stumbled more as he became more aware of how long he had been working and how little he had been resting. Yet science never rests. That did not stop his skin and muscles from feeling tight like bandages on his bones or the rusty feeling setting in his joints.

Pulling up a discarded chair to the table he was previously working at, he groaned sorely at the protests that strangled his muscles as if his body were almost lashing out at the foreign relief. Leaning back with effort, he eyed his discarded tools which were hastily set to the side in his previous excitement, and still plagued by the urge to stay productive, he suddenly felt disturbed by the poor organization of his laboratory and stood up to start cleaning his mess.

The lighting of his lab was efficient enough. High ceilings, the trademark white walls of Providence, and no nauseating flickering lights to complain about, Caesar only felt the need to use extra lighting when working up close on the smaller intricacies of his works. If it were not for the liquidation of the inside of his legs and the stiff pains from the rest of his body, Caesar would be concerned about his vision suddenly being plagued with spirals of darkness and his skull feeling like it was being spun around on his shoulders.

With all that to take into consideration, Caesar clumsily reached for the nearest stable object to stop his fall, stretching his arm too far and grabbing onto the handle of the toolbox on his table.

Sweeping all of the discarded tools along as he pulled the red box towards himself, his knees finally gave out, and he ended up tumbling down onto the floor in a few more maneuvers than necessary. The resulting sound of the crash of tools, toolbox, and person bounced off of the surrounding surfaces, but all Caesar heard was clips of it as his consciousness responded like a bad signal.

He had laid sprawled on the ground for a minute, hand still grasped onto his toolbox, as his vision regained quality, and he could once again hear the unperturbed buzzing of his lab. For another minute or two, he continued to not move as he tried to reassess what had just happened, hissing from the new pains. When he had finally regained the strength to push himself back up, he firmly held onto the edge of the table, his original intended source of stability. Though it was a hard descent, he could only detect future bruises forming but no major lacerations or dislocations were to be found.

It was then that he decided that he needed to take a real break.

Fortunately, he kept a supply of drinks and rations in a corner of his lab for when he often ends up working for days at a time. Though it may not have been a proper definition of a meal, he honestly did not feel like leaving his lab for various reasons. One being the physical toll it took just to make it across the room.

Pulling out a refrigerated beverage, the coolness of the water bottle's metal combated against the heat of his palm and fingers, and he testingly pressed the bottle to his face and felt both the ache and relief of the cold metal to his warmth. Already, his body relaxed in anticipation of rehydration, and he tipped his head back and gulped down until he had emptied the container completely. A stiffness behind his neck prevented him from being able to tilt all the way back, but that was the least of his concerns at the moment.

* * *

 **Predatory:** _Rex meets Black Knight in "Lions and Lambs" and has too many questions._

Everything about her screamed at Rex that she was bad news. Once a suffocatingly pristine prison cell of an office for a man who wouldn't even dare to breathe the same air as another living being, it was now blanketed in shadows with only the bare minimum of light to be seen. Each step she took was trailed behind by a long, dark cape that hung off of her shoulders and down to her knees; Rex breathing went shallow with every clack of her heel to the floor that made herself known to anyone who could here her. Gentle words spoke like a lullaby, soothing and almost purring. An indigo-colored eye that wasn't covered by asymmetrical bangs gazed at him softly, like she were attempting to call a small animal out of hiding, but he couldn't tell if she was looking at him as a victim or a prize. Her smile was warm, but he still felt himself shiver.

Rex knew better, though. Her words may have been kind, but everything else about her was shrouded in obscurity from the way that she dressed, this weird lair of hers, and even her name sent an uneasy shudder up his spine the way that she let it spill over her lips: Black Knight. She spoke it like she was sharing a secret, lowly but with a pride that one wears when they know something that you don't, and she had the foreboding smile to go along with it.

He could guess that she was meant to be some kind of antithesis to White Knight, but would that be a good thing or a bad thing? Or was it just to keep up with Providence's whole chess theme? Rex knew little-to-nothing about that game except from what he's picked up from TV and movies, so it had him wondering... If these two were just "knights", who was the most important piece: the Queen?

* * *

1: I always imagined that Caesar neglects himself when he gets too into his work. Sometimes, it can get pretty bad if someone doesn't pull him out of it. Before, I bet his family would have, but now? Everything has changed, except Caesar.

2: Adding more onto BK's character from when Rex first met her (at least, after the amnesia). I imagine her as a sort of personification of pride in a lot of aspects by not only drawing attention to the way she presents herself but also alluding her to a lion (which coincidentally connects to the episode title wow) who is a symbol for pride. All the while, Rex is distressed.


	3. Whump III and Favorite Color

Okay, so something about me: I ship Caesar and Gatlocke, kind of a lot?

* * *

 **Whumptober (3):** _Caesar has a little accident while working in the lab. Part 3: Deciding to finally listen to his body, Caesar goes out but gets a little lost until he gets some help._

After practically inhaling what energy bars he had stocked, though he did not feel to maximum condition, he began to notice exactly how much his body had began to heat up and decided he should as well get some fresh air after downing a couple of pain meds. He did not have any such medication within his immediate reach in his lab, so he made his way down to the nearest infirmary.

Despite having worked at Providence for over half a year now, the uniform white hallways rarely held any indication to where he was or was going. Not to mention, he was yet to run into any Pawns or other scientists, and his confusion over what time or day it was did not help, so admittedly, he may have been a little lost.

Fortunately for him, turning a corner was Rex, posture casual, having most of the building being in majority of his memories, so he likely knew the paths fairly well. At seeing each other, the brothers both perked up to a degree, Caesar's bewilderment being replaced with enthusiasm and comfort at seeing his younger brother. Rex as well smiled cheerfully and greeted his older sibling with a poor Spanish accent that only widened Caesar's smile.

As usual, an array of different thoughts processed through his mind, and its excitement was only reawakened at reuniting with Rex. While his set tasks were still in mind and were also accompanied by the usual, additional intrusive thoughts that he was accustomed to, Rex had also more to remind him of to take into account. He could go into detail, but Caesar couldn't afford to think about that right now.

As Rex initiated into conversation, Caesar cleared his throat to explain his current situation with cluelessness and naivety in his tone. In response, his younger brother's grin glowed, standing up straight as he offered to take him to 's lab, who had called the teen for a routine check-up in the first place. She definitely had some pain medication on hand. Caesar nodded, the radiant energy of his younger sibling being contagious and filling his chest with a fondness he held only for a few that weren't related to science. Truly a hero, his little brother.

Rex, keen on providing a service and proving his skills, had already turned around and began to lead the way without even looking back at the scientist to see if he was following. It was reminiscent of a time when a younger Rex would eagerly call over his older brother to show him something he had done in another room.

Borderline running because their mother didn't like it when Rex ran up and down the house because he would always get hurt, the young boy's eyes spoke loudly of his enthusiasm to share something of his with Caesar or mom or dad or anyone. One would think that he had done something truly noteworthy to show off when in reality, it could be something as simple as showing another mundane TV commercial, pointing happily at the screen like it was his own personal achievement. Everytime, Caesar followed him, even if the elder knew it was something as mundane or nonsensical as that. Of course, he would follow Rex.

* * *

 **Favorite Color:** _Caelocke - Highschool AU, pre-relationship. Gatlocke has a question for Caesar that is a bigger deal than they thought._

"So Caesar, my dear, what is your favorite color?"

Caesar Salazar, the boy in question, nearly jumped in surprise when a familiar accented voice appeared out of nowhere. He quickly regained his composure, though, when he turned his head and recognized the upbeat grin of Gatlocke as he kept in step with his Hispanic friend as they walked down the school hall.

"Oh hola, Gatlocke. Shouldn't you be with your, er, gang? That's what you called yourselves, right?"

"What, can't I choose to walk down the hallway with my best friend as I ask him what his favorite color is?" swinging an arm around his companion's shoulder, Gatlocke pulled him close.

"I'm your best friend?"

"Well," his delinquent friend's voice went up a pitch and turned doting as he ruffled a hand through tall black hair, "you definitely are my favorite."

"Really?" Caesar paused for a moment; the familiar words and physical contact caught him off guard, but he was surprisingly pleased by it. He returned a genuine and relaxed smile, "Gracias, I think you are a good friend, too."

Gatlocke felt the air leave his lungs looking at his expression but turned away and sighed, dramatically, "You really are oblivious."

"What are you talking about?"

"Nevermind," making a quick recovery, Gatlocke turned back with the same, adoring grin he always gave his inventive companion, "Back to what I was saying, do you have a favorite color?"

Deciding to let the other's vague words slide, Caesar shrugged it off as Gatlocke's usual antics, "Actually, the question was 'what is your favorite color?'"

"So, you were listening!" the more outgoing of the two laughed and teasingly bumped into his oblvious friend, "What is it then?"

"Why is it so important for you to know?"

"Why are you so suspicious?!"

"I'm not suspicious," Caesar couldn't help the amused smile at his friend's offended expression, "I am just curious about why it is so important for you to know someone's favorite color?"

"Not just someone's favorite color, but your favorite color!"

"I hardly see the correlation."

Gatlocke shook his head in disbelief and muttered to himself.

"What?"

"Okay, maybe I'm getting you a gift, and I need to know what color you like for the wrapping paper!" Gatlocke waved his free hand as his brain worked out the most believable BS he could come up with on the spot.

"Oh, any color would be fine."

"Oh, my God."

"You don't need to get me anything, though," Caesar hummed, unaware of his friend's frustration, as he went into thought, "I wouldn't want to make you do that, especially when the things I want, I can just get them myself."

"How about I just guess, and you tell me if I'm right?" Gatlocke huffed and felt his eyebrow twitch, but he refused to give up.

"Gatlocke, I really don't have one."

"Now, now, Cae-Cae, we're playing a game now," waving a finger, the English boy regained his playful smirk.

"Okay, I think I got it," Gatlocke rubbed his hands together and nodded with determination, "Give me three chances to guess. If I guess right, then the two of us go to the movies this weekend. If I guess wrong, then the two of us still go to the movies this weekend."

"Okay." just in time, the boys stopped in front of Caesar's next class. Interestingly enough, the Hispanic boy felt disappointed with how short this walk to his next period was than it usually felt.

"I think I know the answer already, though." Puffing out his chest and resting his hands on his hips with confidence, the English boy wore a cocky smirk that amused his friend who patiently waited for his response.

Taking a dramatic pause in his usual style, he took a deep breath and grinned, "It's YELLOW!"

Caesar was ready to say no. Since the start of their conversation, he had already told Gatlocke that he didn't have a favorite color because really, what was the point? No evidence has been produced stating that favoring a particular shade, some combination of Red, Blue, and Green, could provide any advantage intellectually, physically, or even, socially. None ever really appealed to him, aesthetically, also. And yellow? By default, it was too bright and too distracting, and when mixed with other colors, it produced a hue similar to dirty water, and Caesar didn't rank colors, but if he did, then yellow would be at the bottom. Yet the moment Gatlocke spoke that color with such enthusiasm and with a beaming smile that spoke volumes of adoration and hope, Caesar couldn't help but smile from the childish excitement his best friend was radiating.

Suddenly, yellow was his favorite color.

"...You got it." Both boys were surprised by his response.

"First try?!" The young inventor mirrored his companion's ecstatic expression and nodded, eagerly, before being nearly knocked over by a sudden squeezing hug from Gatlocke, "YES! That's amazing! I told you I could guess it!"

For once, Caesar didn't know what else to say next as he found himself leaning into the embrace.

Though the next period had to start eventually, and the ring of the bell only reminded them of that. Reluctantly, the duo separated with matching smiles on their faces. Crowds of other students began to stream through the halls more urgently to get to their respective classes. Lockers slammed closed, footstep after footstep looped up and down the hallway, and the mix of varying conversations flowed around people like a smoke filling the corridor. Bodies brushed passed them either with quick apologies while some pushed more roughly with irritated grunts, and Gatlocke had even said something to him before leaving, but all Caesar could think about was how much he loved the color yellow.

Even as he filed into his class and took notes and read textbooks and answered questions, all he could focus on was his wooden #2 pencil and its yellow, glossy coating. He never noticed it before, but the girl who sat in front of him had hair that looked exactly like golden silk, but she kept it tied up by a tacky, sequin scrunchie; he had to stop himself from cutting a lock off for him to analyze under a microscope at home. During lunch, he forgot to eat in favor of dissecting a banana peel in the biology lab because there is no way food should be that vibrant. He almost had to go to the nurse's office from the headache he got when he found himself staring too long at the flickering lights in the ceiling and the way they just glowed an engrossing flaxen shade.

In these everyday objects and things he saw all the time, he found a new fascination with them, and with that fascination was constant reminders of things he loved: his love for knowledge, his love for science, his love for creation, his love for technology, his love for learning new things. Now everytime he sees something that even reminds him of yellow, he feels his heart race and his mood boost. Never had he felt this way about any other color, and before, the color yellow was just another hue that would pass him by, but now it's always on his mind. It was illogical for him to feel so emotionally invested in something like this and unfamiliar for him to be so passionate about something other than his beloved sciences, yet the fact was undeniable: he was in love. With the color yellow.

* * *

1: Caesar can't help that Rex is a constant reminder of the things he's trying not to think about, but maybe that's not a bad thing.

2: Caesar falls in love in a dumb High School AU with a character he never interacts with in canon, but it's valid, and you can challenge me on that. On a more serious note, I have actually seen clueless dummies like Caesar in action who don't realize when someone likes them or when they like somebody, so you can't even come at me with his stupidity being unrealistic. Fingers crossed he learns soon, though.


	4. Whump IV and KFR

Ah damn, I was hoping to post my already written prompts every Monday until I caught up, but I forgot. I'm sorry!

* * *

 **Whumptober (4):** _Caesar has a little accident while working in the lab. Part 4: In a visit to Holiday, the brothers find out that something is wrong. [SLIGHT GORE WARNING]_

The door to 's lab slid open and revealed an expansive view of Providence's Petting Zoo once the brothers walked in, Rex first with Caesar following after. had her back to them, entering notes onto a digital tablet with a focus in her work that Caesar could relate to. Though unlike him, she was quick to take notice of the sudden visitors, and seeing Rex, his contagious vigor had spread to her as well. Her posture relaxed and a glow in her eyes melted over him like a protective blanket not unlike the one Rex and Caesar's mother once had for them. Though melancholy, Caesar felt comfort knowing his brother had a trusted figure like her in his life among all the war and chaos.

Though quickly, his observation was overlooked when had greeted the both of them, a pleasant smile on her face in the presence of her charge. Caesar remained contently passive as his younger brother exchanged playful banter with his doctor until Rex had begun to explain how he ran into his brother and why. Adding onto the explanation, the older Salazar briefly went into his incident with the toolbox to which , disapproving of this demonstration of poor self-care, gave a professional recommendation about staying hydrated to prevent further incident, but she still moved around the brothers to grab a spare bottle of pain medication anyway. Rex, amused at the image of his brother clumsily tripping over himself as described, hopped onto the bed of the scanning machine and made a joke about the predicament until 's shocked gasp. Both Salazars quickly turned their heads to the woman behind them before she hastily ordered Caesar to not move his head.

Caught off guard by her sudden change in mood, neither sibling had time to question as she quickly approached her fellow scientist and carefully turned him around, revealing the screwdriver firmly stuck into the back of his neck. Blood soaked into the back of his shirt and vest, darkening the green and khaki with a wetness that trailed down his back in streams of red.

Rex nearly choked on his own shock, and 's face spoke silent horror. Caesar remained alarmed and clueless until quickly regained her composure and informed him of the injury to which Caesar's immediate response was to reach behind him to touch the protruding screwdriver to which Holiday's immediate response was to slap his hand away and an order to not touch it.

Falling back into her professional persona, she knew that the other doctor needed urgent treatment and promptly rushed him to the nearest infirmary. Rex, falling out of his shock, quickly hopped down to follow after.

* * *

 **Kentucky Fried Rex:** _Just another day on the job of Rex fighting another EVO. Warning: puns._

"Come on, birdy! Polly want a cracker?"

Boogie Pack sprouted out of his back, Rex had its fans at a low speed until he was just hovering several feet off the ground. High enough to easily perch himself on the roof of the house he was circling, but still low enough that his jetpack could lightly blow around debris and dust collected on the driveway below him. Though he attempted to keep his teasing at low volume, it was not to prevent disturbance among the neighboring households around him as many of the inhabitants were already being evacuated out of their homes by Providence Pawns. While some were compliant allowing the masked soldiers to lead them to safety with some anxiety, there were few of the pajama-clad civilians who were eager to witness the EVO teen and reluctantly followed with some yells of objection as they would miss out on the action.

Meanwhile, Rex was more occupied with locating his target, grinning mischievously like it was a game of Hide-and-Seek, "What's wrong, buddy? Too… 'chicken'?"

"Rex!" the stern and increasingly annoyed voice of one Agent Six called from the distance as he approached his ward after vacating the last family out of the neighborhood, "Enough playing around. Find it and cure it before it causes any more damage."

"What's wrong, Six? Not 'cracking up' at my awesome 'yolks'?" the young EVO snickered as he disappeared into the backyard of the house he was searching, revealing the former remains of what he assumed was a yard shed. Scratches and an explosion of feathers trailed from the wrecked wood and garden tools and lead to the concrete driveway where the prints became more distinct, tracks cracking through the rock before abruptly stopping at the sidewalk.

Obviously enjoying himself, Rex was too occupied with his pun-based remarks that he failed to notice the red, beady eyes glowing from the hedges behind him. It was not until he heard a familiar clucking did he turn around, but his stalker had already launched itself at him, wings spread, talons out, and head absent.

With a startled yell, Rex barely had time to react and to switch from his Boogie Pack to his Smack Hands, properly smacking the offending, feathered assailant across the yard and into a white picket fence, "Woah, Big Bird, I think you're on the wrong street here!"

"Rex!"

"What? Six, I'm just having a little fun!" grinning at his mentor, Rex failed to notice his enemy had stumbled back on its feet, shaking off pieces of white-painted wood as more feathers molted and floated to the ground to reveal its green and purple-spotted skin underneath. A gargle bawk sounded lowly from its exposed throat as it charged back at the distracted teen, "Don't get your feathers all-"

Crashing into the mutated poultry, the two ended up flying through the window of the next-door house and landed onto the carpet of an abandoned living room. Momentarily stunned, Rex groaned as he brushed glass from his hair, mumbling nonsensical Spanish words.

The antagonizing EVO, though, was quicker to recover on its feet as it gurgled some cluck/screech hybrid and staggered above the incapacitated teen, its puckered neck almost touching the ceiling at full-height. A dirty yellow substance began to leak from the gaping hole on top of its neck with the hackle feathers puffing up despite getting coated in the acidic liquid, setting some feathers to smoke. Just as Rex had regained his bearings, his eyes widened with a gasp before he skillfully rolled over just in time to dodge a large hack of acidic substance was shot in the spot he was laying in. "Aw, yuck!" Rex nearly gagged as the anonymous material melted the tile floor with ease, a rotten-egg-smelling smoke rising from it.

Disgruntled, the EVO chicken had already begun to reload as it charged towards its enemy with a renewed aggression, the young Hispanic was fortunate to manifest his Smack Hands back and crossed them into an 'X', successfully shielding him from another shot of acid though he yelled when the metal had deteriorated before him. Rex, knowing he had to prevent himself from getting pushed into a corner, charged back at the poultry figure before quickly ducking under its skinny wings as he nearly ran into the wall on the other side of the room.

With a grin, the teen regained his confident character and held his right arm to form his Blast Caster, its blue glow emitted from the backpack dynamo. Already charging at Rex, again, just as he predicted, the young soldier pulled back his arm-whip and swung it towards his opponent, wrapping around its body with ease but not enough to squeeze the life out of it. Getting increasingly agitated at its immobility, it had already begun to choke out another acidic glob despite the restriction. Rex grinned triumphantly, "I'll take my bucket of fried chicken To-Go, please."

THe EVO chicken was unable to get another shot out before a channeled electric current traveled from the pack behind Rex, along his tentacle appendage, and entrapping it in a spiral of electricity. A shrieking crow sounded from the EVO as its acidic charge was reduced to a foul-smelling smoke, bright flashes of light comedically revealed its skeleton for a split second.

Rex released it moments later, once he knew he had disabled the violent bird. The chicken, with one final croak, collapsed to the floor with a flurry of feathers flying out like the inside of a pillow was torn open. Rex, de-manifesting his build, paused a few moments to ensure it was truly down as he took note of its rasping but undisturbed breaths. He cringed as a trail of yellow-green substance leaked out of its neck but fortunately didn't burn through the floor this time. This time, he did gag at the smell, carefully stepping around to lay a gloved hand firmly on its laying form. Square trails of light spread across its body the moment they made contact. Rex's look of anticipation was slowly replaced with disappointment as he pulled his hand away.

"Incurable?" Rex quickly turned around to see Six standing at the home's new entrance, courtesy of yours truly and his chicken nugget.

"Yeah… who knew 'Pecking Order' here would be one?" Expression sober, the teen dusted his hands off casually, but the Agent could easily detect the damaged ego.

"Well, you can't win them all. And at least, you managed leave only minimal damage in this neighborhood."

With perfect irony, the rest of the damaged wall behind them had collapsed, leaving more hole than wall.

* * *

 **1:** This one was short but sweet. Fun(?) Fact: was inspired by a real-life injury of a girl who was stabbed in the back of the neck and had spent over half and hour with it despite having no idea until her parents noticed it. I have one more part to post of the Whumptober series, and then that will be done.

 **2:** This was kind of just a practice for me to write fight scenes. I hope I was descriptive enough to create a clear enough picture and stayed true to Rex's more-or-less casual attitude towards such extreme situations. Six was not amused.

 **Note:** I'm kind of interested if some of you guys have any sort of writing requests? I can't guarantee I will fulfill them, but whatever you guys want!


	5. Dissociate and Bulletproof

Happy LATE New Year, everybody! I'm sorry for inactivity, but I didn't want to say anything until I had something to post. Also, I wasn't sure if I was going to continue "Querencia", but lately, I've been getting wonderful unexpected support, so I definitely won't give up! :D

* * *

 **Dissociate:** _An unknown error occurred. If the problem persists, check 3sar_ and tr ._

He couldn't think clearly.

It wasn't that he was stressed. It wasn't a situation where the responsibilities and burdens of his life were beginning to choke him, choke him until all the blood began to rush down his veins and explode out his fingertips and toes. Rather than sending his heart bouncing against his chest until the warmth of his body would rain sweat up and down his skin, the beating was distant and silent against his eardrums like he could feel a distant throb but couldn't pinpoint where it was coming from. His mouth struggled to form words from where there was no message to be sent, and while his jaw tightened and loosened, his lips remained sealed.

It wasn't that he was exactly confused. Sure, there was a hesitance and an unsureness that he was unfamiliar and growingly uncomfortable with, but it was as if he couldn't comprehend that he couldn't comprehend what was happening. His thoughts were swimming, and a dizziness floated lazily from sections to sections of his mind. It was like thoughts were inserting in and out of a port with the information presenting itself in front of him before popping away from existence.

Gray… and white… They were clearly defined shades and shapes, yet they still managed to blur together like he was moving too fast to understand the objects and surfaces and things in front of him. The words and images were there, yet they were having trouble computing.

It wasn't a frantic situation; nobody was in danger, right?

The dizzy spins lightly tapping against the inside the walls of his skull were disorienting, so what was the correct… action? Course of action?

Nausea. Was he feeling sick? He wasn't moving, but it felt like he was a million, billion, trillion, thousand miles away. There was no heat, but there also wasn't any chill. No cool breeze or screaming wind in his face, so he wasn't moving. He was here.

Look.

It was difficult. Nothing was moving, yet everything couldn't hold still. Was he moving away, or was he being pushed away. But he wasn't moving…?! Some of the grays and whites were lighter-colored than the others, and it almost hurt to stare at. Remember t .

Move.

Move what? Subtle joints twitched and creaked by a centimeter, but what was he even trying to do? At this moment, all he could feel was the heat of his spinal cord and the shoulders that flanked it. Grab the... Grab the edge of th .

For a moment, he felt it; he felt the connection of that the cool metal's smooth lines had given him. It was solid, tough, square. Table. A tan hand holding onto the edge of the table. A green-ish sleeve wrapped around. His hand holding on so that he could stabilize. He needed to balance himself to ge . . .

The spinning and tossing of the room, the unbalance, the unsureness, the unfamiliarity, the too fast-moving events. It was hitting him too fast, the edging realization. Suddenly, the beeping and humming of the room's blinding screens and deafening noise was all he could focus on. Warnings and sirens were mixing in. Rumbles and taps and thumps and pitched groans were thrown at his face like it had something to express, but as they came rushing at him like a thin blanket of sweat, a loud boom sent him toppling backwards. He never hit the ground.

Instead, he felt as if were to nearly start floating away, yet a part of him remained rooted to the ground like a balloon's string was tying him down. Rather than feel bloated, the force of the loud boom had him losing all sense of equilibrium as he frantically shook and flew about from where he was still pinned down.

Yet

Yet he didn't have enough TIME for this.

He needed to focus, to get back on track. He had to steady this thing and get back down to Earth. Desperately, he grasped for the edge of that table again with his fingertips barely grazing the corner. He nearly was tossed away in a tumble when an abrupt bump of nothing tried to send him flying away. Then, either his protective casing would fall apart and leave him naked to suffocate and freeze as fast as he can blink, or he himself would be torn apart by the atoms at the speed of light.

Another loud alarm then crumbled away his casing anyway along with the stars in the sky and the vacuum that blanketed it. Another explosion? It vibrated along as back as he laid across the floor on his side. Among all the scattered tools and random scraps of metal, he spotted a bright light shaking only a foot away from him.

Red, white, green, black. One beep. Shuffling. Then, a greeting.

"Hey bro! You up to anything?"

Still in a state of static, the words still manage to escape his mouth as naturally as possible, but looking back on it, he'll wonder how he did that.

Though, Rex's voice alone was comfort enough to help him calm down enough to land softly back on Earth.

Rex...

Oh, yeah that's right. And that meant that he was Caesar. Salazar. Caesar Salazar. 5 years have passed. Caesar Salazar.

* * *

 **Bulletproof:** _I_ _f science was a person, the pirate would have thrown them off a cliff before Caesar could go down on one knee for them._

Gatlocke frowned at the bulky, white vest with disdain, "Couldn't you at least have decorated it with some slimming stripes or a nice belt? I know you're not one for accessorizing, Caesar, but when you go into battle, you want to at least leave a pretty corpse."

"Don't worry, this is only the prototype. The white is just temporary, to see any of the damages from shrapnel or otherwise that we could do to it. We can give it a skull-print and a cape when we're done if you want. No corpses necessary when you're bulletproof."

"Please. Capes?" Gatlocke guffawed, giving a sweeping gesture down his form, "We only wear cloaks here."

"What's the difference?"

"I would gladly kill for you, but if you ever insult me like that, again, I will have no other choice but to crush you like can of pop."

Caesar nodded, pleasantly occupied, "Sure, but only after we shoot at your man here, a few times."

Testing this new armor was an Anarchist that Gatlocke had volunteered for Caesar. Standing some feet away from the pair, the skull-masked figure adorned the new armor with reluctance.

"So, is this the kind of thing with the giant metal plate inside?"

"Well, yes and no," The scientist hummed, one hand holding his chin in thought with the other resting on his hip, "Since we obviously couldn't use vibranium for this design since that material doesn't actually exist, I had to come up with my own sort of material that simulates the properties of it, at least in regards to its abilities as an armor."

"So what's it made out of then?" Gatlocke asked, mimicking the other's in-thought pose and expression as if it would help him comprehend his boyfriend's scientific ramblings better.

Now, it wasn't like Gatlocke wasn't listening or didn't not understand what the other was saying, most of the time, but he just found Caesar's little tics and quirks to be infinitely more intriguing than the density of tungsten or the process of designing a self-repairing armor.

As the pirate watched the scientist go into his lengthy explanation involving the terms "velocity" and "kinetic energy", the latter's familiar childish excitement began to unveil itself; the usual out-of-sync-from-reality attitude becoming replaced by a focused passion that overcome him specifically for his research and inventions. Like a boy being presented with his first video game instead of a self-designed and untested bulletproof vest.

A couple of nights ago, Gatlocke had dragged Caesar out of his lab to watch a movie together. (As usual, Caesar paid for everything.) They went to see a recently popular superhero film that had enough colorful effects and sci-fi concepts to keep the scientist's attention for the couple of hours, and as for Gatlocke, he loves brilliant action and a good villain.

From the moment that the two left the theater, Caesar had been beaming with inspiration, rambling endlessly and rapidly on the theoretical technologies developed in the film. Truth be told, it's hard enough to keep him quiet during the movie itself, but Gatlocke wasn't much better in that regard, so neither cared about the dirty looks and shushing that they received throughout the watch. There was a reason they had to travel so far just to watch a film when they've been kicked out of quite a few theaters already.

It was easy to tell that Caesar enjoyed himself, "Body armor that not only stops bullets but also absorbs their kinetic energy? Redistributing that same energy to use against your opponents?" Lost in his racing thoughts, Caesar threw his arms in wide arcs and fast and hard gestures to emphasize his point, nearly knocking into passerbys, "He was attacking with the momentum of actual gunfire! It's brilliant! Vibranium would have been so useful for my past works."

Gatlocke, meanwhile, was as equally as hyped from the film and returned with his own quips and praises, "While I did adore the Jabari Tribe's conviction and their successful removal from mainstream society, that Klaw character was just a card- Oh, we should get a pet rhinoceros; no, two!"

The two of them, both ramblers in their own regards, would end up talking into the night, once again. What started as compliments on the film's graphics and action scenes had, at one point, spiraled into a discussion on the politics relating to superheroes where they even pulled comparisons from their present situation with a world-famous superhero of their own, Rex. Though not too long after that, they had delved into the conspiracy of secret societies across the globe, like Wakanda, that consisted of species of aliens, lost kingdoms, religious sects, and mutant lizard shapeshifters. Eventually, and surprisingly so late into the conversation, the Anarchist had suggested that Caesar build him a pair of new arms made of "vibranium"; jokingly or not was the idea, the scientist was more than up for the challenge as a determined grin spread across his face while the exhaustion of the long night seemed completely foreign despite the late hour.

At times, Gatlocke envied and despised the effect that science had on his boyfriend, often feeling that the other's work was prioritized above him and even Caesar's self-regard, and if science was a person, the pirate would have thrown them off a cliff before Caesar could go down on one knee for them. Though despite the jealousy/loathing he holds for the practice and its influence, the expression of absolute excitement on Caesar's face was more intense than any flying shrapnel flying at his head or combusting ice cream truck in the middle of the desert; nothing gave him a more extreme feeling of simultaneously falling and being shot at than Caesar in science mode.

"Long story short," Caesar concluded, dizzy and nearly out of breath but with a smile like Christmas Day, "It is a hybrid of both designs with the functionality of the soft vest but the reinforced durability of the hard-plate, thanks to the use of nanotechnology."

"Well, what could possibly go wrong?" All the Gatlocke had else to reply with was a mirroring grin and a pair of jazz hands.

"Okay, so now we shoot him."

Without a moment's hesitation, Gatlocke had transformed his arm into a cannon and had blasted a red stream of energy at the unfortunate target. The unnamed Anarchist's scream, the resulting explosion, and the scattering of rocks and debris followed.

It was a brief moment of letting the smoke clear and the sizzling remains die out before Caesar spoke up.

"The vest, Gatlocke." He corrected, an unused pistol in his hand, "Shoot the vest."

* * *

 **1:** Do you ever wonder if he dissociates back to that day? It's written weirdly because it's strictly from his point of view, so it's painting a rather dull and confusing picture. Also, I couldn't sleep, so this was the product of that.

 **2:** It's called Caelocke, and I don't regret this.


End file.
